Sunday, December 31, 2017

Orlando: A Biography by Virginia Woolf (1928)

Fantastic events occur in the long life of an Elizabethan nobleman, er, woman.

Book Review: Orlando is an unfettered example of Virginia Woolf having too much fun. Who knew? In this amazing detour from her other novels, she uses all the tools at her disposal: sarcasm, irony, satire, humor, great heaps of silly as well as a small boatload of snark. Although reminiscent of Candide, here Woolf is in full-blown biographer guise (there's even an Index and eight photographs of Orlando) describing the random events of our aristocrat's picaresque life. The novel is really just an excuse for Woolf to expound (seriously and not so much) on the subjects she wants to talk about, spread over the three or four centuries of Orlando's life. She spends much of the book commenting on history, English society, writers and literature, the mechanics of writing, women's rights (and the lack thereof), the sexes, love and connection. Although there is a bit of gender bending, it's accomplished in a restrained and fairly chaste manner. No details or descriptions are given of the transformation and subsequent interactions. Not as radical as often portrayed. Orlando's life hits the traditional major moments. As Orlando was a major success (critical and financial) for Woolf, perhaps she knew what she was doing. Woolf's vivacity and wit are well displayed, with an endless number of great lines ready to highlight. Could she have done stand-up? We'll never know, but I'm sure she was great fun at tea parties. The novel slows in the later pages, but that does little to damage the entertainment and edification that came before. If Mrs. Dalloway or The Waves aren't your cup of tea, Orlando may be the hearty helping of Assam you need.  [4★]

Friday, December 29, 2017

"The Death of Ivan Ilych" by Leo Tolstoy (1886)

Suffering leads a man to examine his life.

Story Review: "The Death of Ivan Ilych," one of Tolstoy's later works (written after his great novels), is a simple story still relevant today. The author begins by painting the portrait of Ivan Ilych, a proper, successful government bureaucrat -- seemingly he has everything. These pages seem pointless at first, awaiting the final third of the story to reveal their meaning. Ilych's life is proper, but empty. He does everything correctly, studies hard, gets married, earns a prestigious job, rises to the top of his profession. He lives for "what was considered good by persons of higher position." But his life is unnatural, futile, his bureaucratic work has no purpose, is divorced from meaning. He always did what was expected of him by others, but never made his own choices. Ilych's only enjoyment was playing cards (the 19th Century version of video games), which he relished above all else, including time spent with his family. Later, the memory of these pleasures give him no relief -- only the help of a humble peasant will ease his pain (do I hear cymbals?). Yes, as is cleverly foreshadowed in the story's title, Ivan Ilych becomes mortally ill, suffers horribly, and in his existential crisis begins to search his life for meaning. Tolstoy gives his answer to this crisis, and while it may be the only reasonable interpretation of the story, it's not the only possible interpretation, and not the only meaning the reader can take away. Tolstoy is a writer, he knows the value of the vague and ambiguous. "The Death of Ivan Ilych" is somewhat dated in our post-existential age, but still a worthwhile meditation on life, dying, and death.  [4★]

Saturday, December 23, 2017

Poem

Put It Away, Now

Put it away, now --
bike in the garage
shoes by the bench
notebook on the table
jacket -- closet.

Bus, school, homework
riding the bike
kneeling by the maple
wasn’t so much
we put it away.

Just small
behind the door
it all can be put away
put away childish things
nothing to say.

In a drawer, perhaps a cabinet
out of sight, where it’ll stay
if not there, then under
under is good, under the stairs
under the bed.

So many places
and put away it’s easily --

like it never.

Thursday, December 21, 2017

Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy (1878)

An aristocratic woman wants more from life. An aristocratic man wants more from life. They both get their wish.

Book Review: Anna Karenina is not as intimidating as we're led to believe. Much like root canals. Tolstoy writes clearly and efficiently, even repeating himself sufficiently to ensure the reader keeps up. The story is so well known that spoilers are part of our common heritage, but with Tolstoy that's irrelevant. Even knowing the ending, Anna Karenina is a journey worth taking. At heart, the story is about two people: Levin, a man who finds himself, and Anna, a woman who loses her way. Both are part of the wealthy, cultured class, the aristocracy, in which everyone seems to speak at least three languages. He is awkward, clumsy, a misfit. She is intelligent, charming, beautiful. She is of the city, distant from the peasants. He is a landowner, a farmer, of the land and works alongside the recently emancipated serfs. She aspires to be cultured and European, he rejects the influence of the West and desires to be closer to his Russian nature. He's in a practically perfect marriage, although insecure and overly jealous. She's in an unhappy marriage, which she forsakes for a dangerous romance, also tormented by insecurity and jealousy. Her insecurity stems from her precarious position as a scarlet woman, little of which taints her lover. She has no right to her child and is ostracized by her peers. I actually didn't get a full picture of her as a person till near the end of the book when we see her through Levin's eyes, which is the only time they meet. She has so much hunger for life, she wants so much, is capable of such rich feeling that it's especially cruel to see her circumscribed and punished. Both protagonists suffer an existential crisis at the end of the book, which neither of their lovers are capable of comprehending.

Two great strengths of the novel, layers of genius, brilliancies, are how Tolstoy gives such a complex, accurate evocation of the interior of every character, which then enriches a series of wrenching, all-too-human vignettes. He spends much of his writing from inside everyone's head, telling us what they're thinking and why they're thinking it. Motivation is carefully examined, people change their minds, and simply change. Even the dog Laska has a rich inner life. Tolstoy has a surprisingly strong sensitivity and support for women. Amazing. Many of the emotionally powerful moments are obviously drawn from Tolstoy's own life, such as his illustration of Levin's wedding, the birth of his child, the death of his brother. Even in his lengthy descriptions of farming, Tolstoy's writing exults in the joys of physical labor. There are many brilliant accounts of individual moments: Kitty's care of Levin's dying brother, Anna's love for her son, Karenin's transformations, Anna's disordered thoughts. This is Tolstoy's genius.

Although not suspenseful or compelling, the short chapters and many varied characters easily encourage continued reading. The book is just long (like a Russian winter), with enervating stretches that beg to be shortened for the modern reader. The sections about Levin are a bit less interesting, diluting the greater drama of Anna's life. Much of Levin is written from Tolstoy's own point of view, with the author eager to share his opinions on farming, politics, relationships, and more. He is loyal to the old world: good guys are of the land, bad guys are the effete, cosmopolitan, urban elites. In fact, much of the book promotes Tolstoy's philosophy, especially a theme of distancing Russia from European culture. Long tracts on farming, tangents on hunting, much mocking of politics. There are also involved descriptions of religion, especially during Levin's existential crisis.

Some of these moments are brilliant and enlightening, but in the end (for me) Anna Karenina is too long, unnecessarily long. To have tightened the book, to bring the wonderful scenes closer together, would've brought this book to all the people, instead of only those rarefied Westerners willing to climb the mountain. I know many people believe Anna Karenina is magnificent as written, but whether because of cultural differences, differences in how we read now, or just my own impatience and limitations, for me the length weakens the power and emotional impact.

A few random thoughts: my gosh do Russians really blush this much? It seemed the characters couldn't get through a conversation without a good, healthy flushing and blushing. And how are there so many princes and princesses? Also, although we think of Tolstoy was one of the great writers of eternity, timeless on his pinnacle, writing this all time classic, Anna Karenina is actually very much of its time and place, citing countless contemporary events, books, people, stores, and streets. It's not just a 19th Century novel, it's a novel of 1878. Finally, what a great first line -- when did we stop having great first lines?

I had access to three translations (Garnette, Maude, Pevear/Volokhonsky); all had positives and negatives (my Garnette edition wasn't edited, which some seem to think is the best). While reading I came across sentences that made me question the translation, when I'd think, "That's not how we say it English," or "That doesn't seem quite right." Then I'd consult all three versions. What sounded the best, seemed correct, appeared to be most accurate, varied among the three translations. I mostly read the P&V, but none stood out. If I could take parts of all three to make a clear, appropriate translation. One that read smoothly and like a book that had been written in English, instead of sounding translated. For instance, "You've done good deeds while with us," versus, "You've done good actions while with us."

Perhaps I'm a barbarian. Better readers will get more from the book than I did. For me it seemed long, and a book shouldn't seem long no matter how many pages it has (just as Austen's Emma is long). I'm not proud of it, but I don't think Anna Karenina is as necessary as I did before reading it. Certainly there was something to learn, certainly I'm glad I read it, certainly I'll still read War and Peace. In hindsight, I could've lived without reading it. Perhaps my time could've been spent on Middlemarch or Infinite Jest. I can recognize the genius that went into this masterpiece, but I also know I missed something, and remember the moments my attention wandered. At 350 pages, this would've been the book I expected.  [4★]

Tuesday, December 19, 2017

Sula by Toni Morrison (1973)

Nobel Prize Winner Toni Morrison's second novel is the story of a deep childhood friendship gone deeply wrong.

Book Review: Sula is lovely, magical, and sad. A short book, evoking a small town; it's tempting to think of it as aiming low, not trying to be too big. But like Emily Dickinson, Toni Morrison can find whole universes in the tiniest of incidents. The accumulation of small instances creates all of life and death (especially death) in our visit to Medallion, Ohio. Death filters through every page, can occur at any moment, is the only god that matters: "They did not believe death was accidental -- life might be, but death was deliberate." The two girls' friendship, Nel and Sula, is unalterably touched by death. The story occurs mostly within the black community, in black people's treatment of each other, good and bad, women and men, and coping with the trials and tribulations of their lives. Throughout there is the prophetic, the reader being told what's to come, just not how or why: "It would be ten years before they saw each other again, and their meeting would be thick with birds."

Morrison is such a beyond-talented writer. She's like a basketball player who can make all possible shots, so now she needs to try the impossible ones. Sometimes she relies on her dizzying literary pyrotechnics, her pile-driving poetry, instead of just telling the story. Morrison describes Sula one way, but Sula acts another. Nel asks Sula why she was so cruel. Sula doesn't answer. Morrison tries to explain Sula through some of her most poetic flights of dazzlement -- beautiful, awesome words in a book full of miraculous writing, but I still didn't understand Sula (my fault, I know). Why the cruelty? "How come you did it, Sula?" Nel and I both needed to know. "I was good to you, Sula, why don't that matter?" But because of the strength of this novel, I had to just accept Sula as an inexplicably disturbing and destructive force of nature, and go on.

Morrison's black enclave of the Bottom in Medallion, Ohio, reminded me of Zora Neale Hurston's writing about the (real) African American town of Eatonville, Florida. Both create a rich history, the families, stories, residents, customs of a real community supposedly untouched by the white world outside. The Bottom also has its own magical myths and impossible legends, strongly reminiscent of Gabriel Garcia Marquez's Macondo, though instead of being set in the jungles of Colombia, Morrison sets her story in the jungle that is America. Whether Morrison read Garcia Marquez is immaterial, she creates her own individual vision and version of a reality inhabited by the fantastic and mythical, whether rooted in modern genres and narratives, or in wily African American folk tales, or American tall tales.

Sula has some of the most powerful, poetic writing I've ever read. At times it seems that Morrison is saying, "You think that was good? Watch me now!" Never seen to be showing off (or is she?), but always amazing, and sometimes her writing sends the reader soaring so high she fears she may never get back down. But the story has its foundation in a small town with a philosophy: "The purpose of evil was to survive it and they determined ... to survive floods, white people, tuberculosis, famine and ignorance. They knew anger well but not despair."  [4★]

Friday, December 15, 2017

"Cat Person" by Kristen Roupenian (2017)

From the current New Yorker comes a short story which has been the source of much discussion and dare I say it ... (dare! dare!) ... controversy.

Story Review: "Cat Person" is well-written, a compelling read, and as is thoroughly documented: thought provoking. The story, is quite simply, about a "relationship" between a young woman and a slightly older man. "Relationship" is in quotes because this story made me realize what a huge breadth of human interaction is contained in that now-almost-useless word. It's about the modern world of texting, hook-ups, and surface. Dating, perhaps. Believable, realistic enough, curious. No good guys or bad guys. "Cat Person" has caused quite a bit of discussion on the internet. Kristen Roupenian's story is open-ended, with plenty of space to form opinions, choose sides, get angry and self-righteous, to discuss morality, youth, common sense, women and men, culture. It's a story of our time like no other in a long while. Well worth reading. What impressed me in the story and subsequent discussion is that it's a mirror, a rorschach test. What readers take away from "Cat Person" says more about the reader, and less about the short piece itself. Readers will find some aspect of themselves here and they may not like what they see. For many it seems to be the "judging" side of their personality. The story is in the current issue of the New Yorker, is an e-book, but is also easy to find on the internet. Look it up, see what folks are talking about. See what you think.  [4★]

Wednesday, December 13, 2017

Fables and Fairy Tales by Leo Tolstoy (1886)

A selection of instructional short works collected or written by the famous Russian author.

Book Review: Fables and Fairy Tales by Leo Tolstoy is a bit of an oddity, but a good oddity. These are indeed fables and fairy tales, mostly aimed at children, all embodying a moral lesson. Unlike Aesop, Tolstoy doesn't include an actual moral at the end, leaving that for the reader to decipher. Since many of these pieces were included in primers to help students learn to read, the moral should be relatively simple, but a good number of these contain ideas worth pondering. A piece of advice in the middle of one tale is: "tell your sons that the elder will receive the entire inheritance, and the younger will receive nothing; then they will be equal." Of course, the younger son ends up better off than the older. But "The Snake" has a disturbingly nihilist conclusion, surely baffling to children. In another a hungry peasant eats roll after roll, and after finally eating a single pretzel is no longer hungry -- he realizes he should've eaten the pretzel first! Who says Tolstoy has no sense of humor? While all these stories were new to me, most seemed familiar. For example, Tolstoy uses the metaphor of many birds caught in a net for the adage, "if we do not hang together we will surely hang separately." In another, two hedgehogs find a way to duplicate the success of the tortoise with the hare. All in all, these Fables and Fairy Tales express Tolstoy's philosophy of doing good no matter the cost, which can be difficult for those who concern themselves with superficial notions of fairness, of right and wrong. In a longer piece we learn: "For life there is neither time nor space. The life of a moment and the life of thousands of years, your life and the lives of all creatures, seen and unseen, is one." This is for children? Finally, in "The Three Questions," the answers are: the most important time is now, the most important person is the one you're with, and the most important act is to do good to that person. Fables and Fairy Tales may be the shortest of Tolstoy's works, and at 130 some pages will be certainly the easiest way, even if you re-read, to honestly claim that you've read Tolstoy.  [4★]

Monday, December 11, 2017

FilmLit: Doctor Who - The Unquiet Dead (2005)

The Doctor and Rose Tyler venture back to Victorian Cardiff to team up with Charles Dickens.

Television Review: "The Unquiet Dead" sees the Ninth Doctor (Christopher Eccleston), Rose Tyler, and their good friend Charles Dickens take on spooky, smoky, zombie phantasms on Christmas Eve in 1869. I'm not saying Doctor Who is anything more than fun escapist fare, as with myriad other fandoms (to each their own). I do, however, appreciate the show's little efforts to take it one step better, as with the episodes recruiting famous English writers such as Agatha Christie, William Shakespeare, and here, Dickens. We first see him in "The Unquiet Dead" backstage, depressed at spending his Christmas Eve traveling on a reading tour. Dickens is brilliantly personified by Simon Callow (perhaps best known for Four Weddings and a Funeral). Callow's Dickens will be stuck in my head forever whenever I hear the name. Although at first put off by his brash manner, Dickens quickly warms to the Doctor's unfeigned enthusiasm for and flattery of his work. The plot centers around a funeral parlor which aliens (this is Doctor Who, after all) are using as a portal to enter our world through the "restless dear departed." A seance (Dickens, a known debunker of psychic phenomena, is at first skeptical) is used to contact the aliens. Initially, it seems that all will be resolved well and happily, but soon all goes bonkers (this is Doctor Who, after all). Of course Dickens, genius that he is, plays a key role in addressing the alien menace (and quotes Shakespeare). "The Unquiet Dead" is a more than usually excellent episode -- with a healthy dose of in-jokes and literary references for the initiated. Extra added bonus: the missing ending of The Mystery of Edwin Drood is revealed.  🐢

Friday, December 8, 2017

Thoughts About Reading ... #3

Random thoughts ... some more random than others. Over the course of a day or three, a lot of thoughts fly through my steel-sieve mind; these are just the ones that got stuck.

First, I'll tell you somethin' for nothin' -- perfection is overrated. The sooner we accept that, the happier we'll be. Aiming to be better, doing the best you can, even trying for perfection, all good habits. But if we expect perfection (in ourselves or others) we should also expect disappointment. Besides, perfection is boring: bumps and dents and a barnacle or two are just what make life interesting. And tolerable. Before you think I'm auditioning to be a self-help writer, here's where I'm going with this: let's not expect perfection from authors, even our favorite writers. Lets be tolerant of a few weak spots, give authors the room they need to experiment, to try new things. Give writers the freedom to fail. Even the greatest writers have flaws; let's concede that there are few perfect books. Artists need to reach for something they can't quite grasp. If we judge too harshly, the alternative is repetition, the same old thing, and the disappearance of daring. A little tolerance goes a long way.

Next: Don't mess with my reading! The last thing I want is sanitized fiction. I don't want anyone shutting down an author who dares write a hateful character. The word of the day is "problematic." Tell me a book or author is "problematic," and I'll still have to decide for myself: no one's doing my thinking for me. I have to reach my own wrong opinions. I want a few bigots, jerks, some nasty jokers, and few generally ignorant idiots in my books. We can't ignore the bad elements of life and we can't fight bigotry and prejudice if we don't identify it. Every year during "Banned Books Week" we hear about all the books that people were told not to read because they were "problematic." Social media bullying is the new "Banned Books Week." Everybody who discriminates (including railing against some hapless author) thinks they're doing it for a good reason. Next time you hear a book is "problematic," don't let that stop you if it's a book you want to read. You may learn there's a vast chasm between representation and endorsement, and context is everything. Today some readers are more interested in finding some trivial way in which a book is less culturally sensitive than they judge it should be, than in trying to learn what the book is saying. Some are competing to be the most culturally sensitive -- the world is culturally insensitive and that's going to creep into books. I really don't want either Big Brother or those who are "more sensitive than thou," to be the mama bird that predigests my reading for me. Whew! Rant over.

Finally, I want to mention that rare intersection of the Venn diagram that is educational and entertaining, which is The Cartoon History of the Universe by Larry Gonick. The series is up to three volumes now (hey, it's big subject). I've read the first two volumes and learned more than I'd like to admit. Graphic history is cool. Gonick has published graphic histories in a variety of areas; if the others are anything like what I've read, they're awesome. These books are perfect for teenagers (older teenagers for parents who turn a blind eye to the world we live in) and all adults. But even more than simply imparting knowledge, graphic histories also have the potential for inspiring interest, passion even, in the subject matter and learning in general. One good graphic history could turn you, or your aimless, unmotivated, slacker child, into a college-bound future scientist of the world. Go for it!  🐢

Tuesday, December 5, 2017

Chicks Dig Time Lords by Lynne M. Thomas (2010)

A series of essays by women about the BBC television series, Doctor Who, describing what the good Doctor has meant to them.

Book Review: Chicks Dig Time Lords is the light, pop-culture book one might grab at the library as reading material for down-time during a Doctor Who holiday binge. It's also the kind of book to convince me that I'm not a real fan as I have zip interest in attending conventions, cosplay, creating fan fiction, fretting about the fan base, or even leaving the house much. This is a book by and for the fandom and folks somehow connected with the show (e.g., an actor's sister). Most of the women (more than half are from North America, though there is an Australian!) are lifelong fans of the show, and the contents include interviews and a cartoon (there're even suggestions for good convention food). Most of the writers began watching the "classic" episodes with the older Doctors -- many of the American viewers first encountered the Fourth Doctor, y'know, the one with the wild curly hair, perpetually bewildered expression, and a scarf always long enough to trip over. Chicks Dig Time Lords is all in good fun, attempting to balance the traditional audience skew toward male fans. Most of the articles are light and amusing except one that (among other fault finding) castigates the Doctor for rarely kissing men and a female character for "only" being a medical doctor. Sorry, my standards aren't that high. And sorry again, although tempted, I'm not going to apply the Bechdel Test to every episode of the show -- Doctor Who is too slender a reed to bear such weight; the series makes a reasonable effort at political correctness. Soon we'll have a (much overdue) female Doctor. Plus, Catherine Tate was on the show, so that's good enough for me. Chicks Dig Time Lords is now outdated, as it ends with the Tenth (and so far, the best -- he of the "quicksilver charm and fantastic hair") Doctor. Actually, I only finished reading (it got a little repetitious) so I could write this review in good conscience. Entertaining and diverting, but without much substance. Not bad, but not necessary. Just for fun. Best aimed at die-hard (seriously die-hard) fans and scholars only; this collection could be of use to pop-culture academics studying fan bases and related phenomena. But I did learn at least two things: fans of professional sports are just as much a fandom as geek fans, and the Doctor Who fandom is definitely bigger on the inside.  [3★]